


Horses

by SpellStorm



Category: The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Period-Typical Racism, Racism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2014-05-28
Packaged: 2018-01-26 21:57:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1703999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpellStorm/pseuds/SpellStorm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They all call her names, push her around, glare at her. They all believe the rumors - except for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Horses

**Author's Note:**

> One of the relationships I find myself most intrigued by in the Heroes of Olympus series is between Hazel and Sammy. Not just as a couple - although that is significant, because Sammy is the first boy Hazel ever loved - but also as friends. I've wondered how their friendship started, how they bonded, how they learned when to push for information and when to let things go. This popped into my mind and here's the end result.
> 
> I kinda just let my imagination do what it wanted, so... yeah.
> 
> Enjoy!

"Rufus pushed me again today," Hazel said. "We were outside for recess and he cornered me and shoved me into a bush. My dress ripped; I'll have to fix it before Mom sees."

She heard footsteps and voices coming her way and hurried to stand up.

"I have to go," she whispered. "I'll see you tomorrow, Sonny."

Giving the big Thoroughbred one last pat, she gathered her books and left the stables.

_~Sazel~_

Hazel let out a grunt when her back hit the cement. All the air flew out of her and left her gasping for breath. Above her, the other kids laughed.

"You's lucky we ain't livin' 'n Salem," Rufus sneered. "Cause if we was, you and yer voodoo mama would be piles of ashes."

Hazel wanted to tell him they didn't burn people at the stake anymore, but she knew better than to open her mouth.

The bell rang to go back to class, and everyone ran to get inside. Hazel lay on her back, still stunned and unable to even attempt to get up. As everyone passed her, she thought she saw someone staring at her out of the corner of her eye.

But when she finally managed to lift her head, he was gone.

_~Sazel~_

"They'll get angry if they catch you in there."

Hazel started, her schoolbooks falling to the ground as she jumped to her feet and whipped around to face the voice.

A boy around her age stood in the doorway to the barn, hands in his pockets and a mischievous look in his eyes. His hair was black and curly, sticking out from under a jockey cap. He wore patched trousers that were barely long enough for his legs, a white shirt that was much too big, and boots that definitely did not look comfortable.

"How'd you get in, anyway?" he continued, walking towards her casually. "The stall doors are padlocked."

"Th-th-there's a loose board," Hazel stammered, and then mentally smacked herself. Why did she tell him that? Now she'd never get back in.

The boy walked to the stall and leaned against it, close to where Hazel stood. "Ah, so you found it, too?"

She stared at him. "What?"

"Yeah, I discovered it a few months ago, when I was running by. The pitchfork I was carrying caught on the edge of the board and made me fall. I didn't tell anyone about it; it's how I was able to bring my little sisters and brother to see Sonny last week."

"So… you-you're not going to tell anyone… right?"

He looked at her like she was insane. "Of course not!" he exclaimed. "What kind of person do you think I am?"

He sounded offended, but she could see him trying not to smile. She turned back towards the horse.

"I can't help myself," she said softly, more to herself than to the boy. "I know I shouldn't come here, but…."

She quickly cut herself off. She wanted so badly to tell someone, but really, what was she going to say? That here among the horses was the only place she felt happy, because they were the only living creatures that didn't despise her? He'd think she was crazy. And if she told her mom…. Well, she'd found out a while ago that telling Queen Marie anything was never a good idea.

The boy looked at her, his face serious for the first time. "Hazel –"

They heard the thump of boots at the same time. He shook his head and looked at her with wide eyes. "You have to go."

She nodded and got on her knees to crawl outside.

She was almost to the apartment before she realized she'd never told him her name.

_~Sazel~_

When she saw him behind her school, she stared in shock for a minute before stomping over to him.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, her confidence coming from somewhere she didn't know existed.

He jerked his head up to look at her, eyes surprised and a bit panicked. Quickly he tried to shove whatever he was holding into his pocket, but she ignored that.

"What are you doing here?" she repeated.

He blinked. "I go to school here."

She stared. "No you don't."

He nodded slowly. "Yes, I do. My _mamá_ just got me enrolled last week. I was going to a place on the other side of town before they decided they didn't want anyone colored messing up their perfect white babies. Now this is the only school that'll allow Mexican Americans."

She looked at him in silence for a while before stating, "You said my name."

He tilted his head, confused. "What?"

"At the stables. You called me Hazel, but I never told you my name."

"Oh, that." He nodded. "Of course I know your name; you'd have to be deaf not to. There aren't many decent kids around here, but even the good ones have nasty things to say about you."

Hazel's heart dropped. "Like what?"

He shrugged. "Oh, you know. Your mother's a witch, you're a witch, your father was a demon, you can make jewels appear out of nowhere…. Pretty interesting stuff."

Tears welled in her eyes, and she quickly turned to leave.

"Wait!" he called. She heard him rummaging in the satchel he was wearing. "I found this."

He was holding out her sketchpad, the one she'd barely been able to afford. It was a nice one, too, with the perfect kind of drawing paper and enough pages to last her a few months.

She grabbed it, muttered a thank you, and began walking away.

"Sammy," she heard him say.

She stopped but didn't look. "What?"

"My name is Sammy Valdez. It's only fair; I know yours."

She nodded once and left him behind.

_~Sazel~_

In her room that night, she realized she was missing a couple of pages in her sketchbook. She grumbled under her breath about bullies and gossip.

_~Sazel~_

"Huh?"

Hazel untaped the piece of drawing paper from under her desk and opened it, using her body to shield it from wandering eyes.

It was one of the horse sketches she'd done, and on a scrap of paper taped to the bottom, a note read _Nice Murgese. Ever tried doing a Maremmano?_

She was up half that night sketching.

_~Sazel~_

"Still committing criminal offenses? That's serious."

She didn't freak out this time, but she did jump. "I could say the same about you."

He tilted his head to the side. "How is that?"

"You snuck your siblings in, and you're sneaking yourself in now."

Sammy shook his head. "Haven't you figured it out yet? I work here."

She stared at him. "You- you _work here_? As in, you have a _job_? And you get paid to be here?"

He nodded slowly. "Yes, Hazel. I work here, at the Equestrian Stables, where I make a small but helpful amount of money."

"How did you get a job here?"

He sighed. "Well, Dad used to race horses for a living. When he passed away last year, we ended up selling his horses to make ends meet. Mama does her best, but she only makes so much. I started looking for a job, and since Dad boarded here, the owner offered to pay me if I did little things around the place." He shrugged. "It's not much, but it means my siblings won't go hungry. Besides, I like it here."

"What do you do?" Hazel wondered.

"Oh, just this and that: mending fences, mucking stalls, grooming horses, repairing tack. Sometimes Mr. Jones lets me take one of the horses out for a ride."

Hazel was in heaven. "Do you think I could work here?"

Sammy winced. "I'm… not sure that's such a great idea."

She frowned. "Why not?"

He looked at her warily. "Well, don't take this the wrong way, but…. I don't think Mr. Jones would be willing to hire someone of your… well, race."

She gaped at him. "You mean because I'm African American?"

He nodded.

"That's ridiculous!" she fumed. "Just because I'm a different color doesn't mean I'm not capable of doing a job! Skin color shouldn't mean anything!"

She stopped when she felt a warm hand on her arm. Sammy was looking at her, understanding in his eyes.

"I know it shouldn't," he said. "But I also know it does. _You_ know it does. We go to St. Agnes' Academy for Colored Children and Indians, for crying out loud! It doesn't get more discriminating than that. Mr. Jones isn't a big fan of hiring people who aren't white because it upsets some of the patrons. He only gave me a job because he knew my father, and because I promised I wouldn't let any of the riders see me."

Hazel's shoulders slumped. "Why is everything about what color you are?" she asked rhetorically.

After a minute of silence, Sammy said, "Look, I've gotta finish mucking the stalls. Why don't you come back tomorrow, right after school? I've been racking up points with Mr. Jones for a while now; I think I'm due for another ride."

Hazel's eyes lit up. "Really?"

He smiled. "Heck yeah. I have a pretty good knack for telling when people know what they're talking about, and you, Hazel Levesque, definitely know about horses."

_~Sazel~_

"I can't believe how fast you were going!" Sammy crowed, his dark eyes bright. "I could hardly keep up!"

Hazel smiled. "I've never ridden before, but I've dreamed of it. I loved it! It made me feel so free."

"Yeah, it made me feel free, too. Especially when Buttercup stopped all of a sudden and sent me flying!"

They burst out laughing uncontrollably.

Suddenly, they saw a man striding towards them.

Sammy stopped smiling. "That's Mr. Jones."

When the man reached them, they realized he did not look happy. With a nervous smile, Sammy said, "Mr. Jones. We were just –"

"What do you think you're doing?" the stable owner demanded.

Sammy gulped. "We just took Sonny and Buttercup out for a little ride. You told me I could bring a friend."

Mr. Jones glanced around before leaning in closer. "Not during business hours!" he hissed. "Do you realize what would happen if someone saw you?"

Sammy was silent.

The man's eyes flicked to Hazel. "Leave."

She stared. "But Sammy and I were just about to rinse the horses and –"

"Hazel," Sammy said quietly. "Go home. I'll take care of Sonny."

"But –"

"Hazel."

She looked at him for a moment before handing him the reins and leaving.

She didn't even stop to grab her books.

_~Sazel~_

A banging on the apartment door woke Hazel that night. Rubbing her eyes, she shuffled into the entryway and unlocked the door.

" _Sammy_?" Her eyes widened at the sight of her friend soaking wet and covered in mud.

He gave her a little smile. "Hey, Haze. You wouldn't happen to have a room for rent, would you?"

"Get in here!" She herded him into the apartment. "What are you doing here at –" she checked the clock, "– 11:30 at night? You're lucky Queen Marie isn't here."

"Ugh," he groaned before his knees gave out.

Hazel managed to catch him before he hit the ground and dragged him by his arms to her room. She got a couple towels to clean him up with, but when she touched one to his face, he grimaced.

"Sammy?" She looked closer and saw a quickly-darkening bruise. "Oh my goodness, what happened?"

He waved her off. "It's nothing, just a little mark. Someone dropped a metal pail and spooked Buttercup; she tried to get away and knocked me into a wooden post. Just an accident."

Hazel bit her lip and carefully wiped the rest of the mud off his face.

Twenty minutes later they sat in the living room, sipping cups of warm milk mixed with honey. Hazel had lit the fireplace, and the flames cast a cozy orange glow over the room.

"Did you get in trouble because of me?" Hazel asked quietly, staring at her glass.

Sammy shook his head. "Nah. Mr. Jones wasn't really mad, he was just worried about us. Some of the patrons… well, they're not very nice. If they'd seen us, it wouldn't have ended well."

"Still, I feel bad."

He nudged her with his elbow. "Don't. Seriously, you didn't do anything wrong."

When she still didn't say anything, he sighed. "Hey, are you doing anything after school tomorrow?"

She scoffed. "Like what, hiding in my room while the Queen tells fortunes and sells dumb charms? Give me a place and I'll be there." She saw his expression. "Why? What did you have in mind?"

He smiled. "Do you like kids?"

_~Sazel~_

" _¿Dónde está mi muñeca, mamá?_ " **(Where is my doll, Mama?)**

" _Mamá, olores de pañales de Joey y la alegría sólo la leche derramada por todo mi ortografía!_ " **(Mom, Joey's diaper smells and Joy just spilled milk all over my spelling!)**

"Ah, the sweet sounds of home," Sammy sighed, grinning. "Mama!" he called above the noise.

A tired-looking woman with long, braided black hair came into the hallway, carrying a sleeping baby in one arm and a boy in the other. The boy wore only a diaper.

"Sammy!" she exclaimed in relief. She hurried towards him and kissed his cheek. "Here, take your sister. I need to change Joey." She handed the baby to him and went back down the hall.

Sammy turned to grin at Hazel. "This is Rosemary."

Hazel looked down at the baby girl's face. She couldn't believe how tiny the child was. She'd always wanted a little brother or sister, and she'd asked for one when she was four.

That was the only time her mother ever hit her. She never asked again.

"Follow me," Sammy said. He led her into a small kitchen, where a girl was mopping up milk while another, younger one stood in the corner and cried.

"Hey, hey, hey," Sammy soothed, rushing to the little girl. "It's okay, Joy, you're alright. Jackie isn't mad at you."

"Yes I am," the older girl said.

Sammy gave her a look. "You're not mad at Joy, you're upset that your homework is ruined. Joy didn't do it on purpose; she's two, give her a break."

Jackie huffed and went back to mopping. She stopped again when she saw Hazel. "Who's she?"

"Girls, this is my friend Hazel. Haze, these are two of my other sisters. Miss Sunshine over there is Jacquelyn; she's probably the most uptight eight-year-old you'll ever meet. And this little cutie is Joy; she's two, same as Joey, the boy my mom was carrying. They're twins."

"So you have four siblings?"

He shook his head. "Five. Come on, I'll show you." He bent to look into Joy's eyes. "Why don't you go find Mama and Joey, alright?"

The little girl nodded and ran off. To Jackie, he said, "Finish cleaning this up and I'll help you redo your words before school tomorrow."

He led Hazel into another room. It was small, like hers at home, but instead of one bed there were two mattresses and an old crib. Sammy set his baby sister in the crib before turning to Hazel. "This is the kids' bedroom," he said. "Joy and Joey share a mattress, Jacquelyn sleeps on the one closest to Rosemary's crib, and my other sister… well, see for yourself."

He gestured to a pile of blankets in the corner. At first Hazel didn't see anything, but then the heap suddenly moved and a curly-haired head emerged. The girl blinked and looked around, but the moment she saw Hazel she hid again.

"That's Constance," Sammy told her. "She's a bit of an oddball. Never spoken a word in her life. We managed to call in a favor from a doctor a few months ago; he said she's mute."

At the sound of her brother's voice, Constance left her blanket tunnel and launched herself into his arms, snuggling close. He laughed and held her tightly.

"Hey Constance, this is my friend Hazel. Can you say hi?"

Constance looked at Hazel shyly and waved her hand.

Sammy smiled fondly and ruffled her hair. "Do me a favor and watch Rosie for me, alright?"

Constance nodded and plopped down in front of the crib.

Sammy took Hazel back to the entryway and gestured for her to sit.

"Wait – where do you sleep?"

He shrugged. "The little ones need the comfort more than me. I sleep right here." He smacked the hard floor with his palm.

She gaped at him, slowly sitting down. This apartment was small, sure, and there were more kids here, but Hazel had always assumed Sammy lived much the same way she did. She'd never thought there could be someone worse off than her and her mother. She realized she'd taken her rough but at least comfortable life for granted.

She opened her mouth to speak but thumping footsteps interrupted her. Joy and Joey were barreling full-speed down the hallway, heading right for them.

Sammy smiled at Hazel. "Have you ever played Save the _Princesa_?"

_~Sazel~_

Hazel stared at the walls of her room. Sketches were tacked up everywhere, each with a little note at the bottom in the same scrawled handwriting. She'd been finding them tucked inside her books and slipped into her pockets for weeks. They were the missing horse drawings from her sketchbook; she'd counted and there were fourteen.

Only one more was missing.

_~Sazel~_

_Haze –_

_Rosemary is sick and Mama has work. I'm staying home today. You shouldn't come over; you don't want to catch this._

_I'll see you tomorrow._

_– Sammy_

She stared at the slip of paper. She wasn't even thinking about how he'd gotten it in her lunch pail without her noticing – she knew him too well to ask questions.

No, what she was thinking about was her friend's handwriting. It was messy and scrawled, smudged in places from where he'd messed up and tried to fix it with a bad eraser.

It looked exactly like the writing on her pictures.

_~Sazel~_

"What the heck, Sammy?"

The Latino stared in surprise as Hazel pushed past him into the apartment. He blinked a few times before closing the door.

"Didn't you get my note? Rosemary is sick." His eyes darkened a little. "Did Rufus mess with you today?"

She shook her head. "No, he wasn't at school. That doesn't matter, though!" She shoved a couple papers at him. "What's with these? Why is your handwriting on my sketches?"

He stared at the drawings and then, slowly, a grin grew on his face. "Took you long enough."

She stared. "Excuse me?"

"I mean you finally figured it out. I thought you would've been demanding your papers back sooner than this. We've done homework together enough times."

"Wh-why did you take them? When did you take them?"

"You lost your sketchbook, remember? I didn't just find it; you'd dropped it in Sonny's stall, and it had fallen open. I saw your sketches and couldn't believe how lifelike they were. Then… well, I decided to play a little game."

She gaped at him in silence for a minute before crossing her arms. "Where is the last one? I had fifteen; you left me fourteen. Where is it?"

He left her in the entryway and stopped halfway down the hall. Dropping to his knees, he lifted a plank of wood and grabbed something out of the hole in the floor. He handed it to her. "I still think your Lippizan is the best."

She looked at the paper. "This isn't mine."

"No," Sammy agreed. "It's mine, but it belongs to you now."

She unfolded the drawing and gasped. It was a beautiful Azteca Horse, drawn to a T and in full color. Her eyes greedily drank in the perfect lines and the deep shades of color.

"Where did you get the color?" she asked.

"I might've gotten detention a few times and found some colored pencils in Mrs. Smithson's classroom," he replied, trying to play innocent.

Hazel was too absorbed to care. "And the horse? There aren't any Aztecas at the stables; how did you do it?"

"I looked in my horse book."

She jerked her gaze to his sharply. "You have a horse book?"

"It belonged to my dad, but yeah."

"May I see it?"

He smiled. "Does this mean you forgive me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, Sammy, I forgive you."

And no matter what happened, she knew she always would.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't believe anything bad about different races that I said. I just know that in Hazel's time, people thought they were above others if those others were a different color. I'm not racist at all; I have friends from all different ethnicities.


End file.
